


It's Been A Long, Long Time

by delicateclarity



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Post-Game(s), Reunions, Reunited and It Feels So Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 08:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicateclarity/pseuds/delicateclarity
Summary: Light D/s reunion. Originally going to lead to smut, but unfinished.





	It's Been A Long, Long Time

**Author's Note:**

> As my friend Rose and I were saying two years ago when I started this, "yeah like anyone who thinks Alistair would get aggressive instead of quiet and broody is Wrong. He's gonna be kingly in front of people and then retreat into himself when he's alone, and the Warden's gonna have to draw it out of him and everything." Basically, Alistair is a huge sub and you'll never convince me otherwise.

Alistair has had a hell of a day. Meetings that stretched on for hours, a veiled threat from Orlais,  in addition to the fact that his wife is still not back from dealing with some sort of issue in Orzammar with that whiny fellow, Jerrik. 

The point is - he’s exhausted. Being King is harder than being a Grey Warden, even during the Blight, and he’s still so uncertain when he has to make decisions without Melody. She says she has faith in his abilities, or she wouldn’t be gone so much, but it’s hard enough going months without hearing her voice or seeing her face, let alone ruling without her. But things will settle down soon, she says. And her last letter said she was returning, she could be here any time now. 

Still, when he goes to bed in their big empty room, Alistair is… lonely. 

He covers his face with his hands and sighs, tries not to think about how many more problems will crop up tomorrow that he’ll have to deal with. 

There’s a knock at the door. “If it’s an Orlesian ambassador, tell them to ‘cassez-vous’ and wait until the sun comes up!”

A muffled laugh as the door opens. Alistair sits up, irritated and about to snap something so he can be  _ left alone  _ when he sees who it is. 

“Hello, darling.”

His breath catches in his throat and he can’t help the tears that spring to his eyes for a moment before his shoulders relax and he slumps into her embrace as she rushes to him, one of her hands rubbing his back as she murmurs in his ear.

"Melody."

She’s as beautiful as the day he first met her, but he can see how tired she is. Of all of this. He recalls the time she asked what would happen if they just left Ferelden, early in their travels during the Blight. He is starting to wonder, now, if she knew what would happen in the long run. How much more they would get than what they bargained for. But he leaves those thoughts for another time as she smiles warmly and kisses him. 

It’s just for a moment - she pulls back to study his face, eyes tracing over old scars and checking for new ones. She’s got one herself, just under her jaw, and he wants to know the story of how she got it and he wants to worship it until she forgets the pain it caused. He wants to worship her until her tired eyes light up and the haunted look in her face leaves for laughter. 

She nudges him until he’s back against the headboard and she’s straddling him. 

His breath catches, and her mouth curls up at the edges. She takes hold of his wrists and pins them over his head, smile widening at the small noise he makes. “You need this?” she says, and even though it’s not really a question he nods, swallowing thickly. 

“Please,” he asks, voice cracking. He needs her, needs this, needs to… forget, just for a while. 

Her hands squeezes his wrists tighter, fingertips digging into delicate flesh until his hand spasms before relaxing. She holds him there while she kisses him, preventing him from ever making the kisses deeper. She teases him, backing off when he tries to follow her and pinching his hip to scold him for moving. She must have - let go of him? Alistair thinks absently, but his hands haven’t moved from their position over his head. 

“What do you want tonight?” she asks, and he feels briefly overwhelmed at having to express his desires. But her eyes are soft and her free hand is stroking his hair, so he takes a deep breath. “I - I want - I want to feel like I’m yours. Make me yours,” he manages, and his mind goes fuzzy as she claims him with a forceful kiss. 

She brings her forehead to his. “You are always mine. No matter how far away I am or how long it’s been. You are my husband. My good boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I could still make myself write smut, but it's just not my thing anymore! I hope you enjoyed anyway. :)


End file.
